


Tonight, Tonight

by flippyspoon



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-07
Updated: 2014-09-07
Packaged: 2018-02-16 10:33:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2266482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flippyspoon/pseuds/flippyspoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas goes to a London club for a valet.  The night raises him a Duke.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tonight, Tonight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [daredevilmoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/daredevilmoon/gifts).



The club was clean and about as respectable on the inside as one could hope, given its nature.  A small jazz band was playing and Thomas, sitting at a table, was feeling the blush of flattery because a handsome young valet from Kent (he had twitched at that) was chatting him up.  London so far had been uneventful which was better than bad.  He had gone to a pub with Jimmy a couple of times- Jimmy who was still so damned difficult to read.  It couldn’t be helped.  Jimmy would do whatever Jimmy wanted to do.

“And that’s when the cook realized all the egg had gone to spoil!”  The valet said.  His face was red with drink.  He wasn’t very interesting, but Thomas laughed at his dull story because it had been a long time.  “All the eggs!”

It was Philip’s smile he noticed first, out of the corner of his eye.  That wide smile that was assured, charming, and deceptively self-deprecating.  Thomas took another sip of brandy and as the valet laid a hand on his arm, Thomas’s gaze slid furtively to the right, over the valet’s shoulder to the trio of men in fine dinner jackets smoking cigars.

Yes, it was Phillip.

Thomas quickly looked back to the grinning valet and put on a disingenuous grin, laughing at the unfunny story, and inwardly praying Philip would not see him.  Though like as not he wouldn’t even recognize Thomas.  It had been years and surely Philip had been with many men.   Thomas ought not assume he had been special to Philip given how things had ended.

He treated me as if I were special at the time, Thomas thought wistfully, missing a question the valet had asked him.

Philip, your maids use too much starch, he thought. Philip’s shirts had always smelled so strongly of soap- stiff and perfectly white under his palm.

Now Thomas absently scratched at the thick white tablecloth to mimic the feeling; but the fabric wasn’t crisp enough and there was no chest tensed with wanting beneath it.  He reminded himself that in this place he and Philip were more or less equals and besides that, it had all been so long ago.  He sat up straighter and kept his eyes on the valet, who was laughing at a remark that was not particularly amusing.  If Philip saw him, he’d see a handsome (and younger man) flirting with Thomas.  He was glad he’d worn his best suit out.  He took a drag off his cigarette, tipping his head just so and smiling cooly.  He felt the valet’s shoe nestle against his leg under the table and he gazed up at him, raising his own foot to slide up the man’s calf.  The valet’s eyes widened slightly and he grinned.

“I hope you’re enjoying yourself tonight,” the valet said.  What was his name, for God’s sake? It was too late to ask now.

“I am, thank you.”

“Good, because if...if you’d like to take this-”

“Hello, Thomas.”  Of course, it was Philip, and Thomas’s throat tightened for a moment before he deigned to look.  “Were you going to pretend to ignore me all night?”

“Of course not,” Thomas said, and stood with a sigh.  “I didn’t see you there.  His Grace, the Duke of Crowborough.  This is...ah…”

Fuck

The valet grunted in consternation.  It was bad enough another man had approached.  “Henry Lyden,” he finally supplied.

“Henry Lyden,” Thomas repeated, as if confirming it.

“Pleasure,” Philip said, smiling politely.  But his eyes stayed on Thomas.

Henry rose to his feet, stubbing out his cigarette.  “I think I know when I’ve been beaten.”

“Eh...Henry,” Thomas attempted to protest.

“Oh, don’t let me interrupt you...” Philip began to say.

“Please.” Henry chorted.. “I’m not competing with a Duke for a man who don’t remember by name and there’s an Irishman over there who looks like Roman Novarro.” He nodded a goodbye and swigged the remainder of his drink before he left.

Thomas shot a glare at Philip who looked mildly chastened.  It was an odd moment; suddenly they weren’t awkward former lovers who’d parted on a bad note so long ago but simply two men who understood the playing of a certain game.

“Thanks for that,” Thomas said.

“It wasn’t my intention to ruin your night,” Philip insisted. “I thought I ought to say hello.  Didn’t seem cricket to put on a show of not speaking to you.  I’ll buy you a drink to make up for it unless you’d rather not?”

He seemed so genuine, yet with a hint of his old sardonicism.  Perhaps he’d softened over the years.  Well, so had Thomas to some degree.  Thomas straightened his back; best to keep the old guard up.  He hadn’t forgotten that cold feeling of abandonment, even if he could now admit that they had both been acting in their own best interests.  That Thomas could certainly understand...given several years to think on it.

“Fine.” Thomas sat down at the table again.  “Make it something expensive, would you?”

Philip ordered cognac and sat even as Thomas’s eyes roved around the club for a new prospect. But Philip’s expectant eyes were only on him. “How’ve you been, Thomas?”  He seemed amused at his own words.

“You mean in the last eleven years since I’ve seen you?” Thomas said, raising an eyebrow. “Just lovely, Your Grace. It’s not as if there was a war or anything.”  He waved his glove hand for emphasis.

Philip’s expression darkened but he said, “Rather happy you made it through at all.  You know, I thought of you when…”  His shook his head.  “Well, war talk’s not much fun, is it?”

“Not usually,” Thomas muttered.  He was a little off his guard now.  Philip seemed so interested, nearly apprehensive.  

“Now look here,” Philip said, “are you angry about that empty hat with the double-chin I ran off?  I did you a favor.  You can do far better than him.  You’re more handsome now than when I knew you.”  He took a sip of his drink, his gaze falling right into his glass.

“Bloody liar.” But Thomas allowed a smile.

“Well, there is something to be said for the reality of the flesh in comparison to nostalgia.  Though in my experience nostalgia has always won out, so you ought to take it as the God’s honest truth.”

Philip, Thomas thought, looked much the same as he had in that blush of a London season.  At least, at first glance.  He had the sort of features that could deftly conceal age, though truly, they were still young enough, all things considered.  It was the war that had aged them both, and by now Thomas didn’t need to ask whether a man had served.  One could tell by looking in their eyes.  Philip certainly had, though Thomas had to think he had not seen the very worst of it.  “No,” Philip went on, “you’re uh… You were so angry then.  Angry and beautiful.  Severity of youth, I suppose.  But you’ve grown into yourself, I think.”

“You must be very hard up,” Thomas said, though he cast Philip a wry grin.

“I am not,” Philip said, a little churlish.  “I won’t go in detail but I do have my own flat for such occasions and it’s used more than occasionally.”

“I take that to mean you’ve found your heiress,” Thomas said, just as their cognac was served.

“If I hadn’t I certainly wouldn’t be ordering cognac this fine,” Philip said.  “Yes, I married before the war.  Lucinda.  She’s half-Italian if you can believe it.  She’s very clever and witty.  I think you’d like her.”

“And she knows…”  
“I’ve brought her up into society,” Philip said, as Thomas lit another cigarette.  “I’ve been able to save Crowborough and my personal life is my own.  In return I’ve made her a Duchess and given her a child, not to mention an heir for my own sake.  My son appears to have brains too, thank God.”  Philip seemed pleased, but there was something slightly off about it.  And after all, what was he doing speaking to the former footman he’d brushed off so long ago, though there was  a kind of comfort in the way they’d slipped into a groove Thomas had not visited since 1912.

“You’re bored,” Thomas declared, and he took another drink and a drag; he almost let his eyes close at the sensation.  He felt a quiver of excitement.  The night had somehow become rapturous.   “You have everything you need now.  Nothing to fight for, no too dangerous entanglements, I suspect?  It’s bloody boredom.”  He felt smug, and inwardly admired his own cunning.

Philip didn’t speak. They drank and took each other in and then he said: “You ought to know. You’re half-dead from it.  And we were always so alike, you and I.”

“Well, what ought we to do then?” Thomas was just a little drunk-pleasantly so- and he sat forward in his seat, edging into Philip’s space atop the small table.  Strategically, he let his gaze fall to Philip’s mouth and to his eyes again.

“Are we that bored?” Philip said, but his voice was velvet.

“Oh, I see,” Thomas said, pretending offense.   “How much boredom is required for you to be enchanted, Your Grace?  What happened to my beauty and charm?”

“It’s not that, believe me,” Philip said.  “Only I thought there might be hard feelings.”

“Somethin’s hard alright, but it’s not feelings,” Thomas cracked.  “And the cognac has made me congenial.”

Philip threw his head back and laughed.  “Thomas Barrow…”

“Let’s go for a walk,” Thomas said, draining his glass.

“That doesn’t sound overly exciting.”

“I’ll make it exciting,” Thomas said, and he stood, holding out his hand.  Philip waited a beat, as if expecting Thomas to change his mind.  But he finished his cognac and rose, taking Thomas’s hand.

“Are you still at Downton?”  Philip said, once they were in the coolness of the night and striding down the sidewalk.

“I’m under-butler now.”  

“Hail, good fellow.  That’s a sight better than valet.”

“You don’t have to tell me.  Nowhere to go now unless ole Carson snuffs it.”

“It’s no place for a man like you though.  I pictured you making your own way if you got out of the war in one piece.”

“You pictured me, did you?” Thomas said, nudging his elbow.

“It wasn’t all easy on my end, you know,” Philip said, but he was smiling.  “I did what I had to.  So did you.”

“I know it.”

“I ought to visit,” Philip said lightly.  “Downton, I mean.  Now I’m married and everyone has an heir.  Yorkshire always agreed with me.  Even if I disagreed with it.”

Odd how Thomas’s stomach gave a little flip at the thought.  “I think they’d be happy to have you now.  I’m sure your Lucinda would entertain.”

They stopped on an empty corner in front of a bakery and smoked.  The dim light of the street lamp made Philip’s eyes glitter.  “I’m glad I ran into you tonight,” Philip said.  “You’re far more interesting than those dull chaps-”

“You don’t need to oversell it, Philip.”

“I’m glad to hear you say my name too,” Philip muttered, staring at Thomas’s lips.  “I’m not overselling…”

Thomas’s own mouth twitched in anticipation, but he let it linger.  “I was wondering, is it not risky, a man like you in a place like that?”  He nodded in the direction of the club.

“Half the House of Lords frequents a place like that,” Philip said.  

“Honor among thieves then?”

“Well, everyone’s stealing something…”  Philip stubbed out his cigarette and looked up with a serious countenance.  There was something wistful about the tilt of his head.  Or apologetic, Thomas thought.  “I looked for you in so many men.”

“Philip…”

Philip reached up to trace his finger along Thomas’s bottom lip.  “But there was no one quite like you.”

Thomas glanced around, but the street was empty.  It was nearly one in the morning.  He spied a telephone booth and yanked Philip by the sleeve.  “With me…”

“What are you…?”  They stumbled for a moment and then Thomas was shoving them into the booth where they were half-hid by the papered-over windows.  For one intoxicating moment they were quiet, breath mingling, as they stared at each other until Thomas tugged Philip forward by his lapels and kissed him.  “Mmm...your mouth is still wicked.”  Thomas delighted himself with Philip’s tongue curled around his and pushed off his coat and jacket, pressing him into the wall, though he was awkwardly blocked by a stool fixed to the floor.  “I...don’t know what you plan to do in here.”

Thomas nibbled on the Duke’s ear and grinned into his neck.  “Oh, you don’t?” His hand slipped down to palm Philip’s crotch.  “Still bored?”

“Ah!  Decidedly less so…”

“Will you really come to Downton?”  Thomas said.  “Or were you just talking?”

“I’m seriously considering it, “Philip mumbled.

“Considering?”  Thomas said.

“Mmm…” They kissed and nibbled at each other’s mouths and Thomas massaged him, feeling him harden under his palm as his own prick swelled in response.  “Mmm I could um...I have business in York…”

“Do you?”

“I could have business in York…”  Philip wrapped his arms around Thomas.  “So lovely…”

“Shhh.”  Thomas pulled him down to the stool, and tugged on Philip’s shirt as he knelt on the floor.  He smirked as he unbuckled a belt and unbuttoned trousers.   The little things sometimes shocked him in how enticing they were; the scratchy wool of trousers under your fingertips and the wonderful bulge they hid.  Just the thought of that could keep Thomas up for a night.  Philip hunched over to suckle at Thomas’s neck, tangling his fingers in thick dark hair.  When Thomas wrapped his lips around Philip’s cock, the Duke’s head snapped back and he gasped.

“Ha...I...I don’t know how you managed to get me into a telephone box..”

“Cognac,” Thomas said around Philip’s cock.

“Not cognac, you mad fool. You.”

At that Thomas reached up fondle Philip’s balls and he flinched when his hair was pulled a little too hard.  “Careful.”

“S-sorry just...you’re better at this.”

Thomas stopped for a moment to say, “There was an American once who-”

“Don’t tell me, for God’s sake.”  
“Jealous already?”  Thomas took the tip of Philip’s prick between his lips and grazed the salty skin with his teeth.

“Ah, at the moment very…”

“I like that,” Thomas said and let Philip as far down his throat as could be allowed.  Philip bucked and moaned and stroked Thomas’s cheek.

“J-just for that I’m going to stick my tongue so far up your arse…  Soon as I can...ah...get you in a bed…”

Philip came whispering Thomas’s name and clasping his hand.  Thomas dutifully swallowed and rested his head against Philip’s knee as they caught their breath and then his chin was tipped up by a soft hand and he looked into Philip’s tentative gaze.  “I really will come to Yorkshire.  I can find all sorts of excuses.  It’s not just cognac and your devilish mouth.  But I know you want a fairytale, Thomas.  Or you did when I knew you.”

Thomas tucked Philip away and buttoned up his trousers, but he paused and Philip kissed him on the cheek.  He let his eyes slip shut and rested his forehead against that of the man he’d known so long ago and apparently still knew well.  “I’m older now,” he whispered.  “And I’m very glad I ran into you tonight.”


End file.
